


As Time Goes By

by st_mick



Series: He is the Sun... [6]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Torchwood
Genre: A man out of time, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Homesick Rory, Howling Commandos (yes it had to be done), Multi, Peggy helps Rory, Rory goes to war... again, Rory making the best of things - as always, TATM Reimagined
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 05:48:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16011554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: A trip to Manhattan in the autumn of 2016 leads to a grim battle against the Weeping Angels in 1938.  Rory causes a paradox that breaks the Angels' hold, but it comes at a cost.Rory is hurtled back to 1940 just when he thinks everyone is safe.  Any contact with those he loves most will trigger the paradox he caused, which will continue to ripple through time until the cycle is complete.  So Rory has no choice but to take the slow path back to 2016, when the paradox will end.As it happens, Jack knows Peggy Carter.  Upon her death in June of 2016, a letter is sent to Jack, instructing him to find her in 1940 to help Rory.





	1. The Angels and Manhattan

Rory raced up the stairs and onto the roof, Amy hard on his heels.  The Doctor and River were still in that sad, dingy room, likely trapped.

The room where he had just watched himself die, an old man.  All of his extended lifespan bled dry by the angels.  The Doctor had been horrified by the power they would have derived from the life force of a being such as Rory.

Rory looked over the side of the building.  No fire escape.  They heard a noise and turned.  Okay, no further need to speculate about the amount of power the angels had derived from Rory.  The bloody Statue of Liberty had been recruited to the ranks of the angels!  It was standing opposite them, snarling like some cheesy horror film monster.

“Right,” Rory said as Amy gaped.  He had an idea.  He hated the idea, but it seemed to be the only avenue of escape left to them.

The day had started so nicely.  The Doctor had taken them a few years into the future, to New York in 2016, to see a band he had been obsessing over.  The band was playing that evening at a popular venue near Times Square.  The three had spent a sunny morning in Central Park, enjoying the autumn colors.  And then Rory had gone for coffee.

Little bastard angel had snuck up on him.  He was still kicking himself for not being more on his guard.  So back to 1938 he had travelled, encountering River as soon as he arrived.  The Doctor and Amy had come looking for him, of course.  And after a long day of nonsense, here they were.  He had just seen himself die of extreme old age, having been a prisoner for who knew how long.  He shuddered at the thought of such a fate, of not being able to escape, of living a long, lonely life without ever seeing his beloveds again.

“Right,” he said again.  Anything to avoid that fate.  And if he caused a little paradox in the process, even better.  He let go of Amy’s hand.  “Amy, you’ll need to keep an eye out,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his knife.  He thought idly that the last time he’d used the knife was on a dead mad dog on Barcelona (the planet, not the city).

“What?” she asked, looking at him and then back at the Statue of Liberty, which was not quite tall enough to reach across the roof for them.

Rory used the knife to rip open his jeans.  By now he had become an expert on his still fairly new physiology.  He knew what he would have to do.  “If I die before they can send me back, and I just died downstairs _because_ they sent me back, that’ll cause a paradox, yeah?”

“What are you doing?” she looked even more frightened.

“I’m ending this fight,” he gritted.  He had considered jumping off of the roof, but the Doctor had recently told them about the time he dove out of a low-flying spaceship and had survived the fall.  Rory couldn’t chance surviving a leap from this roof.

He straightened and kissed Amy.  “You’re going to have to keep them away until this is done,” he said, sitting down on the roof.  He hefted the knife, steeling himself.

“Rory?” Amy sounded desperate.  “What are you doing?”

“It’ll be all right,” Rory said, taking her hand and kissing it.  “If there’s no paradox, then I’m sorry.  But if there is, I’ll see you in a bit.”

Without any further hesitation, he plunged the knife into his Gallifreyan-adjacent version of a femoral artery.  A slight grunt of pain was the only sound he made as a fountain of blood erupted from the wound, jetting out in the rhythm of his double pulse beat. 

The Doctor and River burst onto the roof.  “Rory!” the Doctor called, just as River cried, “Dad!”  They ran to them, each standing over Rory as Amy dropped to her knees, taking him in her arms and holding him up. 

Rory was incredibly light-headed.  This wasn’t taking long, at all.  He felt both hearts slow down.  He looked up at Amy and smiled.  “I love you all,” he said, still smiling at her. 

“Rory, it’s working!” the Doctor exclaimed.  And it was.  The rooftop was fading.  Of course, that could be his eyesight failing.  He felt one of the hearts go.  Rory stared in horror as an angel approached from an odd angle, out of the others’ lines of sight.  He stared at it defiantly as he summoned the strength to raise the knife and plunge it into the remaining heart that was taking too long to fail on its own.

Blackness enveloped him.

***

Rory woke with a loud gasp, the howling still fading from his ears.  He looked around frantically, to see that he and the others, as well as the TARDIS, were in a graveyard.  The sun was shining.  They were back in 2016, he could tell.  His jeans were not ripped, he was uninjured.  Yet he still felt giddy-headed from the blood loss.  He flopped down on his back with a groan. 

“Rory the Roman, you are brilliant!” the Doctor exclaimed, hugging River. 

Amy smacked Rory on the arm.  “Don’t you ever do anything like that, ever again, do you hear me?”  Then she leaned down and kissed him hard before leaping up to hug the Doctor and River. 

Rory drew in a deep, staggered breath before sitting up.  Then he got to his feet, smiling at his family as they reveled.  The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, but before he could turn, he felt a cold touch on his shoulder and heard Amy scream his name.

***

Amy’s scream was still echoing in his head as he appeared in a dirty alley.  It was nighttime, a sultry heat making everything dank and close.  Rory turned in a circle, fighting to remain calm.  There was nothing to identify where he was, when he was.

The Doctor had explained that the TARDIS had only landed with great difficulty when they chased after him, the first time.  Likely due to the ripples of the paradox he had been about to cause.  He was fairly certain they would not be able to chase after him, again.

_Shallow breaths._

Rory ran a hand through his hair and tried to breathe.  “Please, no,” he whispered to himself.  He continued to turn in a slow circle, trying to comprehend what had happened.

Another angel. 

Perhaps the last.

He spared himself the criticism.  He had been too light-headed to have noticed or done anything to prevent this.  But what was he to do, now?

“Are you Rory Williams?” a soft, poshly accented voice asked from the end of the alleyway. 

Rory turned towards the voice.  Blinked.  Nodded.

“Come with me, then,” she held out a hand.

Rory took a step towards her but then turned to the wall and vomited.  He felt a hand gently stroking his back.  “I won’t tell you it’s all right,” she said, “but you’re safe.  I’ve got you.  I’ll help you figure this out.”

Rory turned his head away from her and spat.  “Quies es?”[1]

“Are,” she hesitated.  “Are you speaking Latin, right now?”

Rory shook his head.  Huffed.  “Sorry, it just sort of happens when…”  He had no way of finishing that sentence without coming completely undone. 

“Well, I understand you’ve had a trying day.  My name is Peggy Carter.  Come on, there’s a safe house not far from here.  We’ll get you sorted.”

“There’s no way back, is there?”

Peggy knew if she answered that question she’d have to find a way to carry this man to the safe house.  He was barely keeping himself together, as it was.  Honestly, she was surprised he was even coherent, in any language.

She managed to get him to the safe house, where she confirmed that the only way for Rory to return to his own time was by way of the slow path.  That was as far as the conversation went, because Rory collapsed. 

He was catatonic for several days.  When he finally returned to a more lucid state, he slept for another day and a half.  Upon waking the morning of the fourth day after his arrival, Rory showered and dressed in the clothes that Peggy had laid out for him.  She was cooking breakfast when he joined her.

“Hello, Miss Carter,” he said, barely recognizing his own voice.  As she turned, he blinked and took a seat to refrain from staring.  She was likely the most classically beautiful women he had ever seen.  Amy was stunningly beautiful, he thought with a pang, but this woman was… _timeless_.  He found his voice.  “I apologize for taking so long to come around.”

Peggy set a plate of food before him – a hearty English breakfast – and sat down opposite him with another plate.  “Actually, I was thinking you must be quite resilient, to be up and around so quickly.”  She gestured.  “I wasn’t sure if you’d prefer coffee or tea.”

Rory reached for the teapot.  She’d brewed a wickedly strong builder’s tea that would suit him quite well.  He took his time preparing his tea before looking at her.  “How did you know where and when to find me?”

She looked at him a long moment, as though trying to size him up.  At length, she came to her decision.  “I work for MI5,” she said.

Rory looked suitably impressed.

“I am on loan to the Strategic Scientific Reserve.”

“That’s an old American agency, isn’t it?” Rory frowned.

“From your perspective, I imagine so.  A year ago, there was a spot of bother, and I worked jointly with a team from an agency called Torchwood.”

Rory smiled sadly.  “So you know Jack.”

She returned his smile.  “I do.  We were in a rather harrowing circumstance when we worked together, and grew close enough that he confided some things to me.  At the time, I thought he was trying to distract me with entertaining stories.  So I was surprised, and yet really not, when he visited me last Thursday and told me that he was a future version of the person I know.”

Rory nodded.  “It’s a lot to take in, really.”

“Hmm.  He had me call Torchwood and speak to current Jack, so I would know that he was telling the truth.  He told me to ask current Jack about the weeping angels.”

Rory pushed his plate away, angry. 

Peggy pushed his plate back towards him.  “They sound like vile creatures.”

Rory scrubbed a hand over his face.  “I don’t know what else I could have done.”

“Sometimes there’s nothing else _to_ be done,” she shrugged.

“So what else did future Jack tell you?” Rory asked.

“He wouldn’t tell me how far in the future he was from, but he said that he had received instructions, upon my death.”

Rory frowned.  “He should know better than that.”

“Well, he had to tell me, because my future self wrote me a letter, too.”

“Really?”

“It was deliberately vague.  But it was my handwriting, and had a story that only my brother and I knew about, and was sealed with a code that he and I used as children.”

“And that convinced you of its authenticity?”

Peggy nodded.  “Apparently, my future self instructed future Jack to pull together some items for you,” she gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Why could he not wait an extra day and take me with him?” Rory asked, frowning.

“He lost me when he started talking about temporal paradoxes.  But he said that you need to know that he would have risked it, had the Doctor not been so adamant.”

“Right,” Rory muttered.  “So he explained about the Doctor?”

“Yes.  And he told me that you are not to seek out his younger self – the one currently at Torchwood.  He said it would mess up your timelines.  There was a lot of cursing and I think the word paradox was used again.”

“So why you?  How did you get to be so lucky as to be saddled with me?”  He gave her a half-hearted smile.

Peggy chuckled.  “Jack trusts me.  He knows that I will do what I can to protect you.”

“So he told you why I need protection?”

She shook her head.  “He said he would leave that to you.  He only said that you do need protection.”  She looked at him steadily, and he merely stared back.  “I presume that there is something… interesting about you, given the supplies he brought.  And how he brought them.”

Rory raised an eyebrow.  Peggy chuckled and retrieved a messenger bag from beside the door.  Rory recognized it was the Doctor’s messenger bag.  “I found this to be quite extraordinary,” she said, handing it to him.  “I could rather use a handbag like it.”

Rory looked in the bag.  There were about a dozen first aid kits, along with some other items he would peruse more closely, when alone.  He looked at Peggy again.  Based on her hair style and clothing, he assumed he had landed back in the late 1930’s.  He blinked, surprised that he hadn’t asked, yet.  “Where and when am I?”

Peggy laughed.  “I was wondering when you’d ask.  We are in New York City.  It is August sixth, 1940.  You arrived on the second.”

Rory nodded.  “Seventy-six years, two months, nine days, six hours and forty minutes,” he sighed.

Peggy’s eyes widened.  “What?”

“How long I get to wait, this time,” he pushed his plate away and rested his head on his folded arms on the table.  _Shallow breaths.  Don’t panic_. 

“That is exceptionally precise.”

“Enhanced time sense,” came a muffled reply.  “Freak of nature, that’s me.  And I’ve landed in a time where that sort of thing is turned into a science experiment and dissected.”

“Which is where I come in, if you will recall.”

“Have a lot of influence at MI5 or the SSR, do you?” he groaned.  “I’m sorry.  This isn’t your fault, and you’re trying to help.”

“Yes, I am.  Can you tell me what exactly I need to be concealing?”

Rory looked up at her.  He stared at her as though reading a book.  She could tell he was trying to decide whether he could trust her.

“Jack instructed me to tell you that he trusts me.  He told me his real name is Javic.”

Rory burst into tears.  Peggy reached out and held his hand, giving him time to express his grief.  When he calmed, he told her that he had been born human, that he and his wife had been travelling with a Time Lord.  He told her in broad brushstrokes about Rome and the Pandorica.  And he told her about the futuristic procedure that had rendered him no longer physiologically human.

Peggy had listened quietly, not interrupting, despite many questions.  When he was done, she stared at him for a moment.  “So are you… immortal, like Jack?”

Rory shook his head.  “I can die.  I just did, the day we met.”  At her startled look, he explained the paradox he had created in order to escape the angels.  “Assuming I don't get myself killed, my natural lifespan is probably a few thousand years, according to the Doctor’s best estimates.”  He scrubbed a hand over his face.  “It will look like I’m not aging.  I’ll look just like this when I get back where this all started.”

“That will make it difficult for you to keep a low profile.  Tell me about your education, your occupation.”

Rory explained that he was a nurse.  Almost immediately, an idea began to form.  When she shared it with him, he stood and paced a moment.

“Can I trust this man?”

“We can hide you away.  Find you a job, a place to live.  We’ll find a safe way to keep in contact, and in a few weeks I’ll approach him with the idea.  See what his reaction is.  If I deem it safe, we move forward.  Otherwise, you will have to remain hidden.”

Rory was surprised by the speed with which Peggy carried out her plan.  Within days she had found him a place to live, and a few days more found him working as an orderly in a hospital nearby.  It would be difficult to find him work as a nurse, but she felt he could pass for a doctor.  He was reluctant to do that, so they had settled for orderly (one who took many liberties in helping the people in his care) until they could figure out their next step.

Rory settled into his latest bout of waiting, going through the normal stages of grief.  By October he was no longer sleeping the entire time he wasn’t working or spending time with Peggy, who checked in on him regularly.  As they got to know one another, and as Rory accepted his situation, they found they enjoyed one another’s company and became great friends. 

It was not lost on him that this was _the_ Peggy Carter, who his wife and daughter used to take turns pretending to be so they could save the world.  But she became more than that legend of make-believe.  She was an intelligent, attractive, funny, brave woman, and he was honored to know her.

***

Peggy left in November.  She had an assignment of some sort, he could tell.  She would never tell him, of course, but he knew from his time guarding the Pandorica, that look Jack would get when he was about to go do something dangerous.  Rory asked permission first, but gave her a hug and wished her luck.

He did not see her again until the spring.  Christmas had been a bleak affair, with him staring at the photos that had been packed into the Doctor’s messenger bag.  Jack and Amy and the Doctor, bless them, had gone to the trouble of printing out black and white pictures from Amy’s phone.  (His own phone had been stowed deep in one of the faraway pockets of the bag.) 

And his beloveds had then made a photo album, using period materials.  There were photos of Amy and the Doctor and Jack and River and Brian, but there were also some of the pictures that Sara Lance had taken in parallel Rome.  Aelia and Claudia and Drusus and Aurelia.  Rory wondered how long it had taken them. 

There were letters, as well.  One each from Amy, the Doctor, Jack, River, and even Brian.  Rory would treasure every word of each of these letters, allowing himself to read one each month.  It was not enough, but it was more than the silent indifference of the Pandorica, so he forced himself to be content with it.

His work was neither challenging nor interesting.  He was repeatedly chastised for overstepping, though only by ignorant doctors.  The nurses rather appreciated his assistance, and the patients were always grateful.  He volunteered for longer shifts, for difficult shifts, for holiday shifts.  What did it matter to him?

Early mornings or late nights found him on the roof of his apartment building, doing the endless forms that kept him strong and calmed his mind and helped him to cope.  When the loneliness became too much, he would go up with his sword (also thoughtfully included in the messenger bag) and choose a form.  There were several that took four hours or more to complete.  He would exhaust himself and then sleep, and then go in to work.

It was well past Easter when Peggy showed up at his door.  He had just come down from the roof and showered and dressed.  It was a dreaded day off, and he had planned to stop by the hospital to see if anyone needed a shift covered.  But he answered the door and there stood Peggy, looking bright as a penny and so lovely it took his breath away.

Without thinking, he swept her up in his arms and swung her around in a playful hug.  She gave a carefree laugh, but then he remembered himself and set her back on her feet, apologizing.  She smacked his arm in a way that was so like Amy it made his chest hurt.

“I spoke with Colonel Phillips,” Peggy said, seeing Rory’s expression change and hoping to steer him away from the sadness that had settled around him.

Rory nodded.  “And?”

“He wanted more details, of course.  I told him you were human, but from somewhere else.  I told him that you are trying to make the best of a difficult situation, and don’t need to be put under a microscope or harassed.  He wants to meet you.”

Rory had a hunted, haunted look.  “If he finds out I’m from the future…  He’ll want to know things, and I…  I can’t.”

“I know, Rory.”

“Horrible things will happen.  Are already happening.  And I can’t…  I can’t jeopardize the timeline.  My future won’t happen if I try to prevent…”  He looked at her.  “You’ll hate me, before this war is over, Meg.”

“We’re not at war, Rory.”

Rory closed his eyes.  “Britain has been at war for a year and a half.  You’re an MI5 agent on loan to the SSR.  Surely, you know that America cannot remain in isolation forever.”

She looked at him for a long moment.  “I see your dilemma.  You can probably tell me the exact moment the United States will join the war, and even what precipitates it.  And it would be something that I would believe I could somehow prevent.  But in preventing it, I would alter your history, irrevocably.”

Rory nodded.  He sat down, rubbing his chest.  “I don’t know how the Doctor bears it.”

“But you’ve told me.  He dives in and saves the day, all the time.  How does he do that?”

“Time is always in flux,” Rory tried to remember how the Doctor had explained it to him.  “But there are certain events – fixed points – that cannot be changed.  They _will_ happen, no matter what you do to try to prevent them.  His people – the Time Lords – they can see timelines and sense what points in a timeline are fixed, and what can be… fiddled with.”

“Fiddled with,” Peggy repeated.  “But you told me that you have enhanced time sense.”

Rory snorted.  “I never need a pocket watch.  That’s not precisely the same thing.”

“But these fixed points…”

“I am not a Time Lord,” Rory said, standing and pacing.  “Yes, I have a Gallifreyan-adjacent physiology, and yes, there have been certain… side effects, but I can’t see timelines.  I can recognize a fixed point, but only once it has passed.  It would be useless if I tried, and it would be far too dangerous to make an attempt.”

Peggy nodded.  “I understand.  Please, Rory.  Sit down.  I won’t tell them.”

“On the plus side, I was a rubbish student, in history.  There’s only so much I remember.”

Peggy laughed.  They spent the rest of the day together, going to the cinema, walking in the park, and having dinner before Rory walked her home.  He noticed as he left her apartment building that he was being followed.  He lost the tail, easily enough.

In the weeks that followed, Rory was particularly vigilant.  He had gotten word to Meg about being followed, knowing that she would want to sort that out for herself with Colonel Phillips.  His rooftop excursions became more frequent as he felt more and more on edge, constantly on the lookout for unwanted observers.

In June, Peggy came to visit, once more.  “The colonel would still like to meet you,” she said, frowning.  “I read him the riot act about having my flat under surveillance, and he had the good grace to look ashamed.”

***

 

[1] Who are you?


	2. New Friends

Rory met with Colonel Phillips, on the second try.  He spotted those following the colonel on the first attempt, and lost his temper, a bit.  He quit his job and moved out of his apartment without telling Peggy.  He did not contact her for four months.

She tracked him down in her spare time, as he knew she would.  But he was living and working in a different borough, now – Brooklyn, rather than Manhattan.  It had taken her some time to work through all of the hospitals. 

He knew she was watching as he arrived for his shift one afternoon, and he walked to her car as he left in the small hours of the morning.  Climbing in, he said, “You seem to be alone, but I was working and wasn’t able to watch your car the whole time.”

“Rory, I am so sorry!  The colonel was followed by an overeager aide.  He was livid that his word had been broken by another.  The aide has been reassigned.  He asked me to relay his apologies.  He says he will meet with you at a place of your choice, to which I can bring him, without any prior arrangement.  He promises to come alone, but wants you to feel that you can dictate the terms, so you feel safe.”

Rory scrubbed a hand over his face.  “All right, then.  Bring him to Charlie’s in an hour.”

“That all-night diner a few blocks down?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, you are evil,” she said, chuckling.  She started the car as he climbed out.

“If he’s followed, I’m in the wind, and I won’t let you track me down, next time.”

“Understood,” she watched as he walked away, admiring his caginess.  She had underestimated him, before.  She rather imagined that happened, a lot.  To everyone’s detriment but Mr. Williams’.

Rory decided he rather liked Colonel Phillips.  He was cranky, dry as an old bone, and sharp.  He was a bit of a dinosaur, but he was the one in his element, not Rory.  He had entered the diner with Agent Carter a little after three in the morning.  Rory was on the roof of the building opposite, keeping a lookout for anyone watching or following.  When he did not find anyone after a half hour, he joined them in the diner.

“You’re late,” the colonel grumbled.

“On the contrary, I am on time.  I asked you to be here a half hour ago so I could be sure you weren’t followed.  Again.”

“I take full responsibility for that, and I apologize.”

“Apology accepted,” Rory smiled and ordered tea from the waitress who came to refill the colonel’s cup.

“So,” the colonel scrutinized Rory more closely than anyone had in a very long time.  “You’re from ‘somewhere else’, I understand.”

Wow.  Air quotes in 1941.  Rory grinned.  “Sorry I can’t be more specific.  I arrived here after being attacked by an entity called a weeping angel.  Agent Carter has already fact checked these creatures with Torchwood, in Britain.”

Phillips nodded.  Carter had told him as much.  “So this thing touched you, and you disappeared from where you were, and landed here?  And now you’re stuck here.”

Rory nodded.  “Pretty much.”

“You look…” he went back to scrutinizing Rory.  Rory sat back, his face deliberately blank.  “You look a lot younger than you are.  And you’ve been a soldier.”

“And now I’m a healer.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I started out a nurse, before life got weird.”

Phillips snorted.  “Life seems to stay weird, these days.  So where you come from, men are nurses?”

“Yes, but Meg’s right.  I was trained in more advanced medicine.  I could probably pass for a doctor, here.  I may go back to school and actually do that, eventually.”

“So why come to me?”  Meg?  Interesting.

“Europe is at war.  All indicators point to America being drawn in, sooner than later.  Like most wars, it’ll probably be long and ugly.  I would like to serve, but I can’t do that if I’m turned into a lab rat because I’m different.”

“Who would have known you’re different, if you hadn’t come forward?”

Rory looked at Peggy, who nodded.  “I need people I can trust around me, if I’m wounded.  I am human, but I don’t look like it inside, anymore.  Things… happened.”  He took a safety pin out of his pocket and pricked his finger. 

Peggy and the colonel stared as a bead of blood more orange than red formed on Rory’s fingertip.  Rory licked it away and busied himself with his tea for a moment.

“I’m still me.  Born human.  But I’m stronger, more resilient, now.  My innards are different.  And human medicines can kill me, now.  Like I said.  I’d like to serve.  I can be a medic.  I’ve fought before, though not under what you would consider modern circumstances.  But I understand if you need for me to prove myself, somehow.”

The colonel sat back, considering.  Nothing about this man made him uneasy.  He was forthright, earnest, genuine.  He carried himself like an old soldier – one who fell back into old ways when he wasn’t paying attention.  He had tried to distance himself from the warrior inside, but his vigilance betrayed him.  But he was too young to be an old soldier, wasn’t he?

Agent Carter trusted him.  That spoke volumes, because she was tough and smart and not easily taken in.  He nodded to himself.  Time to start testing him.  His first salvo held nothing back.  “You don’t look like a man who’s lost everything.”

Rory pursed his lips and looked into his cup.  When he looked back up, he had dropped the mild-mannered mask he had been wearing.  He looked… the colonel hesitated to put a word to it.  Broken?  Lost?  Ancient.

“Don’t I?” Rory asked, his voice still mild.  He looked back down, scrubbing his hand over his face again and took a sip of his tea.  He made a face.  “Cor, this tea is rubbish,” he muttered.

“Let me have a think.  There may have to be a compromise, though.”

“I’m willing to volunteer blood and tissue samples, but I’m pretty sure they won’t tell anyone anything useful.”

“Fair enough.  I’ll see what I can do about work.”

“Thank you, Colonel.”

“Hmmph.”

***

True to his word, the colonel got Rory a job at a VA hospital, nearby.  Rory had insisted that he not be called a doctor, so they called him “Lieutenant”, instead.  Rory was only slightly less uncomfortable with the bogus rank, but the colonel had first put him through a battery of exams and tests to prove his medical knowledge. 

Rory had outperformed all of the newly graduated doctors who were given the test prior to acceptance into any SSR-related agencies.

The colonel watched Rory’s performance closely, noting his dedication.  By the time Pearl Harbor was bombed, Rory had gained the colonel’s confidence.  Throughout 1942, he was sent on sporadic assignments where a medic might be deemed useful.  Rory proved himself to be a true asset to the team, for his fighting skills, his medical training, and his unimpeachable calm under pressure.  He and Peggy found themselves working together a good deal, and were surprised to find that they worked well together.

“Why is that a surprise?” the colonel asked, one evening in the autumn as they shared a drink after a mission debrief.

“I’m just used to more bickering,” Rory gave a sad smile.

“Worked with the wife, I take it?”

Rory nodded.  He rarely spoke of his family.  “She is very Scottish,” he smiled fondly.

“You think you’ll see her again?”

“I hope so.”

“I like you, Kid.  I hope so, too.”  The colonel saluted Rory with his glass of bourbon.

***

It was just before Thanksgiving that Rory was walking home from work and heard a dustup in an alleyway.  Looking, he saw several young men ganging up on another man who was significantly smaller than them.

He broke up the fight with one well-aimed kick and a Centurion glare, then helped the young man to his feet.  “You all right?”

“Yeah,” the kid answered.

“Which way are you headed?”

“You don’t have to walk me home, mister.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.  Just thought you might like to join me at the diner on the corner, for a coffee,” Rory gestured.

The young man looked awkward, but then seemed to decide.  “Yeah, all right.”

“Rory Williams, by the way.”

“Steve Rogers.”  Steve walked past him and Rory almost stumbled. 

No, couldn’t be.

***

Shortly after the new year, Rory broke up another fight.  Had another cup of coffee with the defiant young Rogers.

By now, he was sure.

***

In early June, the colonel came to see him one day at the hospital.  “I hate to break it to you, but you’re about to be busted down to private.  But you’ll be a lieutenant again before you’re deployed.”

“Pardon?”  Rory wasn’t sure he understood the colonel.

“We’re about to conduct a very special basic training at Camp Lehigh.  I want you there.”

“Okay,” Rory frowned.  “What aren’t you telling me?”

The colonel smirked.  “A lot.  You don’t know Agent Carter, by the way.  We’re trying to find a good candidate for… a special program.  I think you might be a decent candidate, but if you’re not, I’d like your input on the other recruits.  It’s only a week, but if you’re half the soldier I think you are, that’s all you’ll need.”

Rory was immediately on his guard.  “I can tell you right now that I am not your man, if this is what I think it is.  But yes, I’ll help you evaluate the others.”

“Hmmph.”  The colonel didn’t ask what Rory thought he might know.  “You’re going to have to get better at following orders, Williams."

“I’ll do my best, Sir.”

***

“You following me, Kid?”

“No more than you might be following me, Sir,” Steve looked up from his foot locker in the barracks.  He gave Rory a smile and shook his hand.

***

“C’mon, Kid, up you go!”  Rory reached down and hauled Steve up the wall on the obstacle course.  He ensured Steve had good hand and footholds before dropping to the ground on the other side.

“You’re not meant to be helping anyone, Williams!” barked the colonel.

“Battle turns even uglier if you’re not able to work together with your fellow soldiers as a team, Sir,” Rory replied as he ran past.

“Hmmph.”

***

“You want to build a super soldier,” Rory said, keeping his face neutral.

“You’ve trained with the recruits for a few days, now.  Who do you like?”

“Rogers,” Rory said, without hesitation. 

Erskine made a satisfied noise and Peggy smiled.

“Why?” the colonel asked.  “Why does everyone like this kid so much?”

Rory thought.  “This serum makes someone more themselves, yeah?”

Erskine nodded.

“Well, Steve is tough and stubborn and kind and has an incredible moral compass.  That combination of qualities, amplified…  Seems like the perfect cure for fascism, to me.”

“Hmmph.”

***

It was what turned out to be the last day of training camp when a grenade was pitched into the midst of the recruits.  Rory tackled several men to the ground, trying to get them to cover.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steve dive onto it.  He saw the colonel say something to Erskine, before stalking away. 

“I saw that, Williams,” he said as he walked past.

Rory went over and helped Steve to his feet.  “You know, I’ve found that brave, selfless and stupid are often interchangeable terms,” he grinned.

Steve shrugged a shoulder.  “The colonel looked unhappy.”

“Not for long,” Rory said, in that infuriating way that he had of seeming to know things before they happened. 

Rory saw Meg watching Steve.  He nodded.  The better man would definitely win, if Steve could get over his shyness.

***

Rory tried to convince the colonel to deploy Steve.  “The experiment was a success, wasn’t it?  I mean, look at him!”

“I need an army of soldiers, not just one.”

“You have an army of soldiers, and they’re laying down their ordinary, unenhanced lives every day.”

The colonel huffed.  “Do you think I don't know that?  I want enhanced soldiers so the normal ones won’t die in such droves.  You have no idea what it is like, to send so many to their deaths.”

“Yes, I do, actually.”

The colonel wheeled on him, but then lost his bluster at the expression on Rory’s face.  “You going to tell me, someday?”

Rory nodded.  “Someday.  Maybe after the war.”

“I’m sending you over, Williams.  You’ll be attached to the 107th.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

The colonel hesitated.  “I can keep you stateside, you know.  Stay safe, for your pretty wife.”

Rory smiled grimly.  “I won’t be seeing her for some few years, yet.  Might as well do my part.”

“Hmmph.”

***

Amy would yell at him, for this.  He could practically hear her, now.  “Captured?  What kind of idiot gets himself captured?  You great numpty!”

Well, in fairness, there were a good number of great numpties to be found, here.  And in equal fairness, she had proved herself more than adept at being captured, herself.

 _Christ_.  Everything hurt.  They had been doing hard labor for weeks, now, with no end in sight.  Still.  He knew they were being treated better than the inmates of other camps…

It was hard not to feel guilty for being only a tad uncomfortable, by comparison.  He was just glad he’d left his messenger bag with Howard Stark before they’d left for this assignment.  And he had discovered one useful tidbit.  The TARDIS’ translation matrix was still working. 

He refused to let on, but he understood everything the Germans were talking about.  He also understood the Frenchman sharing the cell with him, a fellow Englishman, and a handful of American toughs. 

Just as he was about to doze off, there was a commotion, up above.  Rory squinted up and saw a man with the most ridiculous shield he’d ever seen.  Not to misunderstand him.  He was all for a shield.  Hella handy, a good shield.  But stars and stripes?  He chuckled.

He shook Steve’s hand when he opened the cage.  “Good to see you, Kid,” he grinned.  “Put on a couple of pounds, though, haven’t you?”

Steve smiled back before getting back to business, looking for his friend Barnes.  Someone asked if he knew what he was doing.  “Yeah.  I’ve knocked out Adolf Hitler over 200 times.”

Rory walked up beside him, planning to follow him.  “You know, I only knocked him out once, but in my case, it wasn’t an actor.”

Steve looked at him and stopped.  “Go.  Get the others out.”  When he saw Rory get that stubborn look, he said, “Please.  You’ll need to get them out of here, if I get… held up.”

Rory huffed, but fell back.

***


	3. The Howling Commandos

“I want you to be on the team,” Steve said, hauling Rory over to the table with the rest of the men he had been speaking with.

“Why?”

“You’re kidding, right?”  Dugan asked, wide-eyed.  “You are a sight to behold in battle, Lieutenant.”

“And we could use a medic,” Steve added, watching Rory squirm.

“Yeah, all right.”

Did he just agree to become one of the Howling Commandos???

***

Oh, those were definite sparks.  That was dangerous.  Especially if he was wrong.

***

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

All he ever had with Sergeant Barnes was a series of hurried rendezvous, each consisting of a few long snogs and a frantic hand job behind the barracks, or – on a few notable occasions, a quick but heartfelt blow job out in the woods. 

But it scratched an itch.  Rory desperately missed intimacy, but if all he could hope for was sex, and he could find a willing partner, he needed the semblance of the former and the release of the latter.

Rory liked Bucky, and it wasn’t like Meg Carter would ever look his way again.  He figured Jack and the Doctor would forgive him. 

He hoped to hell that Amy would…

***

Steve was in a bombed out bar, failing to get drunk.  Meg had just left him.  Rory entered and sat in the chair she had just vacated.  “I thought we should have a toast to a fallen friend,” he said quietly, drawing a strange bottle out of the strange bag he always carried with him.

“Not much point,” Steve sighed.

“Oh, I think you’ll like this,” Rory grinned.  “It even gives me a buzz.”  Rory’s penchant for drinking bullies under the table had become well known.  He had never been seen the least bit impaired.

Rory poured a glass of hypervodka for each of them.  “To Bucky.  Omne sacramentum glorificare.”[1]

“To Bucky,” Steve’s voice cracked.  He choked on the vodka, clearly not expecting it to have any fire to it.

Rory smacked him on the back and poured another round.  Jack had included a case of the stuff in the bottom of the messenger bag.  He figured he could afford a bottle or two, tonight.

“Someday you’ll have to tell me why you bust into Latin, every now and again,” Steve said, downing another glass.

“Someday,” Rory said, pouring another.

It turned out they only got through one bottle.  Steve hadn’t been properly drunk very many times in his life, so he had been unprepared for the effects of the hypervodka.  Rory had to hold him up as they made their way back to the barracks.  On the way, they ran into Peggy, who was leaving the offices for her own quarters.

“You’re out late,” Rory observed.  He was barely impaired, but he wasn’t that bothered about it.  It was nice to be a little buzzed, even.

“Peggy!” Steve drawled.

“What did you give to him?” she hissed.

“Just a bit of hypervodka,” Rory smiled, but then the smile slid from his face.  “Sometimes a bloke just needs to have a drink,” he said grimly.

She huffed.  “Well, just see that he gets safely to his bunk, will you?”

“Of course, Meg,” Rory smiled sadly at her.  “You work too hard.”

She returned his smile.  “Sleep well, Rory.  You too, Steve.”

“’kay,” Steve said.  As Rory hauled him away, he said, “Why do you call her Meg?”

“Dunno.  She just seems like a Meg, to me.”

***

A truck full of children had been taken from one of the nearby villages.  The commandos had found the truck, and the place where the kids were being held.  They were loading the children onto the transport to get them to safety, with Rory standing at the back of the truck, handing each child in.  A small blond girl tripped as she ran, propelling a smaller child towards them.  Rory ran for the smaller child and saw three enemy soldiers run up and grab the little girl.

“No,” he growled, tossing the child to Dugan and running into the woods, circling around.  He walked from the treeline directly towards the three soldiers, firing his sidearm three times in quick succession as he strode towards the group.  The three men dropped to the ground, dead.

It was as though the pistol was a part of him, and it brought up vile memories.  But he swung it around and began firing at the squad of enemy soldiers running towards them on the road.  He dropped every man he aimed at, but he was soon empty. 

He wheeled around and knelt down, holding the girl to his chest as he felt his back being pelted.  He thought of Amy, and knew she would forgive him for dying to save a child that looked like their Melody…

Then the tone of the bullets changed, clanging off of Cap’s shield as Dugan, Morita and Falsworth lay down a scathing covering fire.  Cap lifted Rory by the scruff of his neck and towed him towards the transport.  “What was that?” he growled.  It was the angriest Rory had ever seen Cap.

Rory was still holding the child.  He calmly climbed up onto the truck with her still clinging to him.  “I won’t leave Melody behind.  Not again,” Rory mumbled.  His back hurt, and there seemed to be a stitch in his side, a hitch in his breath.

Steve just stared at him.  Dugan was pressing something against his back.  “Uh, Cap?” his voice sounded strange.

Steve looked at the bandage Dugan was holding and frowned.  “Jim, get on the radio and call ahead.  We’re under orders to inform the colonel right away if Lieutenant Williams is injured.”

“Yeah, I get the feeling I know why,” Dugan muttered.  He sounded shaken.  Rory vaguely wondered why.

When they arrived at the camp, Agent Carter and Howard Stark were waiting for them.  Rory was upright but barely coherent. 

“He wouldn’t lie down or do any of the things he makes us do for shock,” Dugan complained as he and Steve guided Rory into Stark’s tent after prying the child from his arms.

“Dugan, Rogers, you’re not to speculate about this, with one another, or your team,” the colonel told them.

“Yes, Sir,” they replied.  Dugan wandered off, but Steve stayed close by.

They sat Rory down at Howard’s desk, and he leaned forward on his elbows as they cut his clothing off of him to look at his injuries.  He had been shot three times.  He had two bullets still in him, and the third had been a glancing gouge along his side.  The bleeding had slowed, but he was growing weaker.  Stark had been studying Rory’s physiology, but he didn’t know enough to chance removing the bullet that seemed to have struck something important.

“You’re going to have to walk me through this, Lieutenant,” Stark looked pale and uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

“Meg,” Rory grabbed Peggy’s hand.  “Remember what you promised.”

“Rory, you’re going to be fine.  But we can’t give you the anesthetic because you have to help Howard through this.  I’m sorry.”  She found a thick belt and handed it to him, to bite.

“Here,” Steve said.  He sat down on the opposite side of the desk, facing Rory.  He took Rory’s hands and gripped them. 

Rory nodded to him.  “I’ll try not to hurt you,” he smirked.  “Howard, bathe your hands in the antiseptic and then put on the gloves.”  Once Howard was ready, he said, “The top wound is,” he gasped.  “Superficial,” he growled.  “All muscle.  Leave it, for now.”  He took a staggered breath, wincing as it caught.  “Let me talk you through this before you go poking around, please.  I’m no good to you if I pass out.”

“Sorry,” Howard muttered.

“The middle injury has struck one of my airways.”  As if on cue Rory gave a wet cough and spat blood.

“Why is your blood orange?” Steve blurted.

Rory chuckled.  “Don’t worry, Kid.  I’m as human as you are.”  He blinked blearily at Steve.

Steve frowned.

“You’ll need to widen the entry wound.  Find the thing that looks like a giant tubeworm and use the…” he reached for the med kit.  “This.  Use the little paintbrush to seal the tear in it.  I think my bypass would have kicked in, if it was more than a nick.  But if it is, you’ll have to stitch it up.”

Howard reached for him, but he made a noise.  “Wait.  Once you seal the airway, you’ll have to dig out the bullet.  Once you get that one and the top one, be generous with the antiseptic and then use this,” he held up the tool that looked like a stapler.  Which is what it was.  “You can seal all three wounds with it.  It ties off synthetic stitches that will dissolve once the skin has healed.”

Having relayed the most important information, Rory slumped forward, taking a few breaths to steel himself.  Then he put the belt in his mouth and took Steve’s hands and gave Howard a nod.

Rory did his best not to scream, but having Howard digging around in his back was excruciating.  Once his airway was repaired, he spit out the belt and took several great, gasping breaths, relieved to be getting enough air, again, painful though it was.  After a brief respite, he put the belt back in his mouth and Howard managed to quickly extract both bullets. 

He almost lost consciousness when Peggy poured the antiseptic over the wounds, cleaning them thoroughly while Howard caught his breath.  The stapling was not that bad, by comparison, but he was barely coherent, by then.

Rory was muttering in Latin, raving about Melody being in danger and asking where Amy and the Doctor and Jack were. 

Peggy cleaned him up before bandaging him.  “I’m sorry we were ill prepared to help you, Rory.  No one should have to endure such a thing.”

“’maright,” he slurred.  “Roman,” he nodded, seeming to pull himself together.  “I once carried my own arm off a battlefield.  Stapled it back on and went back to fighting.”  He chuckled giddily.  “Good times.”

“Rubbish,” Peggy chuckled.

“Yeah, my Melody didn’t buy that one, either.  It was actually an arrow through my leg, that.  Had to drive it through and cauterize it with my own sword.  And no choice but to keep fighting, after…”  He shook his head as if to cast off the memory.  “But the stapler story sounds better.”

“I think maybe you should lie down,” Peggy said, concerned at how much Rory was talking in front of Steve, Howard and the colonel.

He caught her hand.  “Is Melody safe?” he asked.  “I couldn’t save her, at Demon’s Run.  They took her, our baby.  Did I get it right today?”

Peggy looked at Steve, who looked horrified.  “You saved the child, Rory.  She’s safe.”

Rory seemed to sag with relief. 

Howard came forward with the hypospray.  “Here you go, buddy.  Maximum dosage.  Time to sleep.”  They lay Rory down on Howard’s camp bed.

“Wait.  I might go into a healing coma.  I’ve heard the Doctor talk about it.  Shouldn’t be more than a few days.  Don’t try to rouse me, or interfere, in any way.”

“Okay, Rory.  Try to rest, now,” Peggy pulled the blanket over him.

He was asleep almost immediately.

“Would someone care to tell me what the hell is going on?” Steve asked.

“Melody is his daughter,” Peggy said, hoping to distract them. 

“Yeah, I got that, though he wasn’t exactly coherent about that.  A baby, a blonde child, and it sounds like a grown woman?”

“I think it’s time for him to come clean,” the colonel said.  He held up a hand to preempt Peggy’s protest.  “He has proved himself more than adequately, and he has my protection.  But his team very likely saw him bleed today.”

“I know Dugan did.  Not sure who else,” Steve nodded.

“Rogers, he’s one of your men.  And by all appearances, your friend.  Will this make a difference?  I need your complete candor here, because if you have even the slightest doubt, I’ll have to reassign him.”

“I’ll have to do something about him defying orders and going after the child, but I have no idea what.  I mean, he saved her.  And he was willing to die, doing it.”

“Verbal reprimand will do for that, I would think.  But you’re not answering my question.”

“I guess I need to know what he is.”

“You heard him,” Peggy said, her temper flaring.  “He’s as human as you are, Steve.”

“ _I_ don’t even know what that means, Peggy,” Steve replied.  “What I do know is that my hands are killing me.  He’s a lot stronger than he’s been letting on.”

“It means he was born human, and then some extraordinary things happened,” she replied.  “This makes him no less a soldier, no less your friend.”

“I know,” Steve sighed.  “When he’s up and around, let’s have him talk to the team.  It’ll have to be up to them.” 

“Fair enough,” the colonel said, leaving the tent.

Steve frowned and looked at Peggy.  “What promise?”

Peggy glanced at Howard.  “To burn his body, if he doesn’t make it.  He says if anyone figures out what he resembles physiologically, it might cause trouble of a kind we’re not equipped to handle.”

Steve shook his head and turned away.  He didn’t go far.  He grabbed a chair and sat with Rory, sending Howard and Peggy to get some rest.

***

 

[1] He honored every oath.


	4. Coming Clean

Four days later, Rory woke with a scream.  “MELODY!”  He gasped for breath as though he still had human lungs.  It took a moment for him to get his breathing under control.

It was dark in the tent.  Someone was sitting beside him, a hand on his back.  “Theta?”  Rory groaned.  “God, it feels like I died again.  Where’s Amy?”

Steve lit the lantern.  Rory looked around and his expression went from bemused discomfort to unmitigated anguish.  “Lieutenant Williams?” Steve asked, concerned.

Rory buried his face in his hands, too weak and overwhelmed to pretend otherwise. 

“Rory?” Peggy and Howard entered the tent.  Peggy took Steve’s place next to Rory, who had sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed when he woke.  She put a hand at the back of his neck and pulled him towards her.  He buried his face in her neck and allowed her to hold him, but he was careful not to wrap his arms around her. 

He leaned away from her a moment later, looking away.  “Sorry.”

“Dream of home?”

He nodded, looking utterly dejected. 

“Let’s look at these wounds,” Howard said, trying to distract everyone.  “We did as you asked, didn’t rouse you.  I didn’t like not changing the bandages, though.”  He spoke as he pulled the bandages off.  “Infection’s a scary thing.”

“That was a sixty-third century antiseptic you used.  Infection is unlikely,” Rory was rubbing his face.  He started rolling his neck, then his shoulders, stretching his arms.

“Hey, knock it off.  I’m trying to see…”  Howard’s voice trailed off.  The injuries were healed.  Angry red scars that were tender to the touch were all that remained.  “Whoa.”

Rory was stretching, still uncomfortable, but he thought he knew what Howard was seeing.  “What?”

“You have scars,” Howard said, running his fingers over them, causing Rory to hiss.  “Sorry.  But that’s it.  It looks more like they’re four months old than four days.”

“Oh,” Rory said, reaching around to feel the scar on his side.

“You seem surprised,” Peggy said.

“Well, it’s the first time I’ve been injured since I’ve been this way,” he said, shrugging.  “Well, other than that day…” he looked away, trying not to remember that day.

“You’re lucky I like you, Kid.  Our scientists would have a field day with that.”

“They’ve taken buckets of my blood and haven’t made any headway,” Rory grumbled.  “Sir.”

“Another point in your favor,” the colonel said.  He patted Rory on the back.  “Glad to see you up.”

“Thank you, Sir.”  Rory looked at Steve.  “I apologize for running back out,” he said.

“You apologize, but you’re not sorry.”

“Is the little girl all right?”

“Yes.”

Rory smiled.  “No, I’m not sorry.”

“Who is Melody?”

“My daughter.”

Steve nodded.

“Would you like to see a picture?”

Steve frowned.  “Sure.”

Rory reached for the messenger bag and pulled out the photo album.  He paged to a picture of River.

Steve looked at the picture, and then at Rory.  “That woman is older than you.”

“Not likely,” Rory snorted.  “By this age, she’s calling herself River Song.  Do not,” he held up a finger, “let her snog you.”  He chuckled.  “She favors hallucinogenic lipstick.”

“Did you give him more painkillers?” Steve asked Howard, who was frowning.

“Time-wimey, like that explains a damned thing.”  He sighed and began flipping through the album.  “Okay.  So.  Here is Amy, my wife.  Here is the Doctor, who we travel with.  Here is the TARDIS, his time machine.  And Jack…  Amy was kidnapped not long after our wedding and was replaced with a Flesh avatar powered by her consciousness.  Even she didn’t know she was a fake.  The Doctor melted her, once he figured it out.  _That_ was a bad day…

“We went to Demon’s Run in the fifty-second century, where she had carried a child – our daughter – to term, and given birth.  There was a battle, and we thought we had rescued them both.  Until the avatar of the baby was melted.  They took our baby and raised her, grooming her as a psychopath to kill the Doctor.

“She escaped and regenerated and made her way to Leadworth, where she grew up as Mels.”  He pointed to a picture of Mels, standing between Rory and Amy.  “Amy’s and my best friend, growing up.  A few months after Demon’s Run, Mels grabbed a gun and forced the Doctor to take us to Nazi Germany so she could kill Hitler.

“We landed in his office.  He shot Mels, I punched him and locked him in the cupboard, and Mels regenerated into River and then proceeded to try to kill the Doctor.  Which she sort of did, but then gave up all of her remaining regenerations to save him.”

He turned to a different page in the album.  “She was born about fifteen years ago, for me,” he whispered.  “Amy saw her, in 1969.  Little blonde girl, she said.  I always imagined she looked like my Claudia, maybe,” he was touching another picture, where he was dressed as a Roman Centurion and holding three children.  The little girl was not unlike the one Rory had rescued.

“Why a cupboard?” the colonel asked.

“ _That’s_ what you got out of that?” Howard asked.  “What’s regeneration?”

“He’d just shot my best friend,” Rory shrugged.  He turned to Howard.  “Sort of a rebirth.  Every cell in the body dies and is replaced.  It’s a Time Lord thing.”

“Then how did your daughter do it?”

“Human-plus.  She was conceived in the time vortex.”

“So you’re a… time-traveler?” Steve asked.

Rory nodded.  “Born human, here on earth.”  He looked at the colonel.  “In 1989.”

The colonel nodded.  “How much history have you been holding back?”

“By now, do you believe me when I say that I do what I can?”

The colonel frowned.  Nodded.

“Time travel is… complicated.  There are things called fixed points.  There is no way to change them.  If you try, you make them worse.”  He thought of Theta trying to save that woman on Mars.  “So much worse.”

“But you participate.”

“I sit out the fixed points.”

“You know what they are?”

“They make me feel a little queasy.”  Rory sighed.  “I usually don’t recognize them until afterwards, though.”

“How can you not at least try?”

“Because a wiser being than me taught me that making it worse is far worse than letting it happen.”  Rory sighed.  He told them the story about the Doctor trying to change a fixed point.  What it had cost.  “I may have a mild sense of time, but I can’t take on that kind of responsibility.  I’m sorry, but I can’t.  I don’t know enough about history, and I certainly don’t know enough about time.  So I do what I can.  I…  I didn’t ask for this.”

The colonel sighed.  “No one can argue that you’ve done as much as any man can, Lieutenant.”  He cleared his throat.  “I suggest you keep it vague when you tell your team.  I have to say, it was easier when you just said you were from ‘somewhere else’.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You really punched Hitler in the face?” Steve asked.

Rory smiled.  “It was that sort of day.”

***

Rory told the Howling Commandos about the time travel, about the Centurion and the Pandorica, about the surgery on the Waverider, and about the weeping angels.  By the time he was done they were recovering from various degrees of shock.

“I understand if this makes you uneasy,” Rory said.  “The colonel will reassign me if this is a problem for any of you.”

“So you’re human, but you had to be… rearranged on the inside, to keep you from dying?” Morita asked.

“Yes.”

“You’re really strong and heal really fast?” Falsworth asked.

“Yes.”

“And your blood’s a different color.”  Jones said.

“Yep.”

“You have over two thousand years’ worth of memories rolling around in your head, including time fighting as a Roman Centurion…” Dugan said.

“Yes.”

“And you’re going to have to wait another seventy years to see your wife again,” Steve muttered.

“My family,” Rory winced.  “Seventy-two years, one month, three days, six hours, and thirty-two minutes.”

“Okay, of all the things you’ve said, _that_ bothers me,” Dernier piped up.

“Should I leave, let you discuss this?” Rory asked.

The others frowned at him.  “Discuss what?” Morita asked.

“Whether I should be reassigned.”

“Why would we want that?” Dugan asked.  “We finally have a nickname for you, since you won’t let us call you ‘Doc’.”

“Oh, God,” Rory cringed.  Dugan’s nicknames were the worst.

“You’ve fought by us all this time, you think we care what color your blood is?” Jones asked.  “This is one of the only units that doesn’t care about things like color.”  He looked at Rory.  “And you were one of the first ones to show me that.”

Rory grinned, remembering bursting into the colonel’s office and telling him to tell command to pull their collective heads out of their jumped up arses and stop being bigoted jerks like the Nazis they were fighting and start using people based on their capabilities rather than their demographics. 

The colonel had not been amused.

Not openly, anyway.  He had indulged in a chuckle after a reprimanded Rory had stormed out again, and then called to tell command to reassign Jones.

“So I can stay?”

“You’re not goin’ anywhere, Gramps,” Dugan sat back and smiled.

Rory grinned.  Could’ve been worse.

***

“So how many men did you command?” the colonel asked from the back of the tent.

Rory looked at him.  “What do you know about Roman legions?”

“A legion was about five thousand strong.  Made up of ten cohorts.  Close to five hundred men per cohort.”

Rory nodded.  “Nine cohorts had six centuries, each.  Eighty men per century.  So four hundred eighty men per cohort.  The Primus Pilus –“

“What’s that?” Dugan asked.

“Translates as the ‘First Spear’.  It was the first cohort.  It had five double-strength centuries.  Eight hundred men.”  Rory hesitated a moment.  “Renatus Lupus Petran began in Legio Flavia Felix.  The Flavian Fortunate Legion.  By the First Dacian War he was Secundas-Pilus-Prior.”

“Really?” the colonel sounded mildly impressed, which caught the attention of the others.  “How old were you?”

“Thirty.”

The colonel whistled.  “That’s young to be just one promotion away from the First Cohort.”

“How’d you get to England, then?” Morita asked.

“He fell in the Second Battle of Tapae, in Dacia.  The Nestene Consciousness took his memories and merged them with mine from when I died in Wales.  Made a plastic centurion with both our memories.  Stuck us… me at Stonehenge, as a trap for the Doctor.”

“Why do you speak of the memories in the third person?” Falsworth asked.

Rory shrugged.  “I wasn’t actually there.  I just have the memories of the bloke who was.”  He saw their confusion.  “Look, the years I’ve actually lived, I’ve lived as Rory.  Renatus’ years are part of my memories now, but I didn’t actually live them.”

“You lived as this guy until you remembered who you were, right?” Dugan asked.

Rory nodded.

“We’ve seen you with that sword.  You have his fighting skills?”

Another nod.

“You get his nightmares?”

Rory looked away, but nodded.

“Then it was you,” Dugan said, sitting back and crossing his arms.

Rory nodded.  “Yeah.  It’s been pointed out that I count his children as my own, so it makes no sense that I distance myself from him.  But it was just _so long_ ago, and it’s so relatively recent that I’ve found out that they were real.”

“You talk about space and aliens and parallel universes like it’s normal, or something,” Jones said.

Rory shrugged.

“And why can’t they come get you in their time machine?” Dugan asked.

“I caused a paradox when I killed myself.”

“Hold up.  A what?”

Rory huffed.  “An angel had touched me and sent me back in time, and I was in that room, dying of old age when Amy, the Doctor, Melody and I found him.  Me.  He… _that_ me died because he’d been sent back.  So I killed myself before I could be touched and sent back.  But I had to have been sent back, because we’d just watched old me die.  Paradox.”

Howard whistled.

Rory continued, “The paradox was pretty big.  There were ripples.  I’m like a still pond…” Rory blinked, realizing what he’d just said.  He swallowed and continued.  “…that a rock has been dropped into.  The ripples are the paradox, echoing through time.  The TARDIS can’t breach them.  All I can do is live these years and get back to when the angel got me.  Any contact with my timeline or anyone from it in the meantime will set off one of the ripples.”

“And then what?” Howard asked.

“A tear in the fabric of reality.”

“The end of the world?” Howard asked, smirking.

“Likely,” Rory’s gaze was so steady, there was no joke to be found there.

“You mentioned family,” Morita said.

Rory shrugged again.  He didn’t want to talk any more.  But they were staring at him expectantly.  “Amy.  Melody.  The Doctor.  Jack.  They’re my family.  I hope to see them again.”

“So you got a wife, a daughter, and… two men?  You queer, Lieutenant?”  The question was marked by curiosity rather than any sort of ill will, but protests arose from Steve and Peggy.  The colonel and Dugan sat back, both seeming curious as to how this would unfold.

“That would be illegal, Jim,” Rory gazed steadily at his friend.

“I didn’t mean any harm,” Morita protested.  “You just keep talking about these men like you miss them as much as your wife.”

Rory smirked.  “Don’t worry, Jim.  If I were queer, you wouldn’t be my type.”

Dugan started laughing, and was soon followed by the others.  They all left, soon after.

“You all right?” Peggy asked.

Rory nodded.  “That went well, I think.  They don’t want me transferred, so that’s nice.”

“Jim was out of line.”

“Of all the questions that could have been asked, that was unexpected.  All of space and time, and it gets boiled down to, ‘are you queer?’.  People are funny.”

Peggy sat looking at him expectantly.

“What?”

“Well, you’re married, so…  They call it bisexuality, don’t they?”

Rory groaned.  “Really, Meg?”

“You forget.  Jack came to me.  I saw his anguish.  And Jim is right.  You miss him and the Doctor as much as you miss your wife.  Are you in love with all of them?”

Rory sat down heavily.  He didn’t speak for a long moment.  “The term for me is omnisexual.”

“Not to put too fine a point on it,” Peggy chuckled.

“Male and female, human and alien.  The Doctor isn’t human, remember.”  He sighed.  “And yes, I love them all.”  He rubbed his forehead and sighed.  “It’s only been four years, Meg.  I…”

“Is it harder than before?”

Rory shook his head.  He thought of guarding the Pandorica and shuddered.  “No.  I was completely alone, then.  Except for the last century, when Jack showed up.”  He frowned.  “I deliberately isolated myself, while I watched over her.”

“Why?”

“Guilt.  Fear.  Punishment.  I had killed the most precious thing in my life.  And I was afraid of losing control and hurting someone else.  And I thought I didn’t deserve any kind of comfort.”

Peggy shook her head.  “By your own account, you say you had no control over it.”

“She was no less dead.  Still in a box.”  He shuddered again.  “This time doesn’t feel like penance.  I don’t feel like I’m being punished, though the separation is punishing.”  He looked at her.  “Does that make sense at all?”

She nodded.  Then frowned.  “Are you afraid of forgetting them?  Or that you might stop loving them, before you see them again?”

Rory smiled.  “I went almost nineteen centuries without seeing Amy and the Doctor.  Almost forty years without Jack.  I…”  He hesitated.

“What?”

“I probably sound like a total wanker,” he said.  “But I think once I love someone, I always love them.”  He looked at her, then quickly away. 

“A loyal heart,” she smiled.

“Hearts,” Rory smiled.

Peggy’s expression became perplexed.  “But all three, at the same time?”

Rory coughed but quickly recovered, realizing she was talking about polyamory, not group sex.  “Yes.  I love them, and I can’t explain how they all fit into my hearts, but they do.”

“I don’t think I could do that.”

“No one who loves you would ever demand from you more than you could give,” he said gently.

She beamed at him before continuing to indulge her curiosity.  “Were you always…” she trailed off.  “I’m sorry, I’m being very forward, and you’re probably tired.”

“It’s all right.  I don’t mind.  If you’re asking about attraction, then I suppose both sexes always caught my eye.  But even in my time, kids can be cruel.  I was small for my age, and awkward as hell.  And Amy and Mels were my best friends.  So I got teased and bullied and harassed, and I learned very quickly to keep my eye from wandering in any obvious way.  Plus, until I grew up, I only had eyes for Amy, really.”

“So what changed?”

He chuckled.  “I woke up with memories of growing up a Roman.”

“Ah.”

“No rules, no judgment.  It was an extraordinary culture, in that respect.”

“No disrespect, but how do you know your children are your own, in that kind of… environment?”

Rory chuckled.  “Aelia and I had an agreement.  We only indulged in activities that could result in pregnancy with one another.”

“Oh,” Peggy frowned, then blinked.  “ _Oh_.  Well I suppose that left a whole host of other activities still on the table.”

“Surprisingly many.”

“And you still remember her?”

“Aelia still holds a very special place in my hearts.”  He looked wistful as he whispered, “Always will.”

“But she looked just like Amy.”

“I’d appreciate it if you never mentioned this to her, but Amy is nothing like Aelia.”

Peggy chuckled.

***


	5. How a Sontaran Can Make You Homesick

Rory was doing forms as the sun rose in a small clearing on the far side of the wood from the camp.  It was a quiet place, and he came here often to calm his mind and tire out his body.

He heard Steve approaching long before he saw him.  “Morning,” he greeted as he finished his form.

“Lieutenant,” Steve nodded to him.  He looked hesitant.

“Everything all right?”

“I was wondering if you might be interested in sparring with me.” 

“Uhh.”  Rory blinked.  Captain bloody America wanted to fight him? 

“I can’t really go all out with anyone.  I figured I might be less likely to hurt you.”

Rory nodded.  “Okay.  I’ve only ever brawled, really.  Might not be a bad idea to learn something more efficient.”

Steve and Rory were fairly well matched.  Rory was strong and resilient, and a smart opponent.  He could take a punch, and more than once he managed to knock Steve down.  As his skill improved, they became more evenly matched.  Steve judged that when he sparred with others, he held back and only used about a third of his strength.  With Rory, he could comfortably use about ninety percent of his ability without worrying about hurting his friend.  Invariably they attracted an audience, though it was usually limited to their fellow commandos. 

One afternoon they were sparring in the clearing with Dugan looking on when Rory stopped and turned towards the woods.  He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.  “That’s the vortex,” he said, breathing deeply, greedily taking the scent into his body.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a time traveler close by.”  Rory took another deep breath and caught another scent on the air.  “Shit.  A very specific time traveler.”

“Someone you know?”

“Fifty-first century pheromones,” Rory sighed.  He took another deep breath, and the longing bloomed in his chest, actually causing a physical ache.

“Gramps?”

“It’s Jack.”

“What is that?” Steve asked, feeling a spark, like static electricity.  The air seemed to be shivering.

“Paradox,” Rory choked.  He reached out to Dugan.  “I need to get out of here.  Please help…”

Dugan grabbed Rory’s bag and hauled him by the arm towards the woods, away from the direction Rory had been facing.  The air calmed as they walked.  “Guess that answers Jim’s question.”

Rory stopped and rounded on him.  “You got a problem with me, Dugan?”

Dugan raised his hands in surrender.  “No, Gramps, I don’t.  You love who you love.  Right?”

“What makes you think that?” Rory asked sullenly, continuing to walk.

“A tear in the fabric of reality if you see this guy, and you need help to keep from seeing him.  That, my friend, is love.  I’m proud of you, that you asked for help.”

Rory managed a small smile.  Then he stopped, pulling Dugan down.  “Well, that explains why Jack is here.”

“What the hell is that?” Dugan hissed.  “It looks like a baked potato with ears!”

Rory chuckled.  “That’s what I always say.  He’s Sontaran.  Belligerent and militaristic.  They always kill Jack, the first time he sees them.”

“Is that like a tradition, or something?”

“No, just his luck with them.  How about we break the pattern and nab this guy, first?”

“I’m game.  You got a plan?”

“I’ll distract him, you sneak up behind him.  He’ll have a probic vent on the back of his neck.  Hit him there, and it will stun him.  They’re extremely strong, so that’s our best bet.”

“Probic vent…” Dugan muttered, silently moving away.

Rory stood and began walking towards the Sontaran.  “Oi, mate!  You’re a long way from home, aren’t you?”

Dugan almost stopped cold to hear Rory speaking the alien’s language, but he refocused on the task at hand and kept moving.

The Sontaran swung his weapon towards Rory, who stood with his hands raised to chest level, palms toward the alien.  “How do you know my language, puny Terran?”

“Puny?” Rory chuckled.  “Pot and kettle, mate.  But no matter.  You’re not the first Sontaran I’ve met.”

“But I shall be the last!  For the glory of Sontar, I shall claim this planet!”

Rory interrupted him before he could start chanting.  “Isn’t this a level two planet, right now?  Won’t the Shadow Proclamation have something to say about this claim of yours?”

“I scoff at the Shadow Proclamation!” the alien puffed, but he looked less sure of himself.

“Mate, you’ve landed among the finest soldiers in one of the best armies ever to fight on this planet.  What are you, a scout?”

The alien hesitated.  “I am the first, yes.”

Rory barked out a laugh.  “Your ship crashed, didn’t it?”

“No matter.  This is a perfectly serviceable planet.  I shall claim it for the glory of Sontar!”

Dugan appeared behind the Sontaran and hit him in the back of the neck with the butt of his shotgun.

“Thank you.  He was beginning to repeat himself,” Rory chuckled.  He set down his messenger bag and reached inside.  “You know, I wondered why Jack included these.  Guess now I know.”  He pulled out a set of restraints.  “You want to go find Cap and Jack, or maybe Meg?”

Dugan watched as Rory restrained the alien.  “How can you speak his language?”

“The TARDIS’ translation matrix,” Rory explained as he attached the restraints to the Sontaran’s arms, just above each elbow.  He adjusted the vertical length between the arm and wrist restraints and then bound his wrists.  He then adjusted the horizontal length so that the alien’s arms were locked in place at his sides.  Another band ran from one arm restraint to the other, around the front of his body, so his arms could not be moved backwards away from his body, either.

“So you can speak any language?”

Rory shrugged.  “Essentially.  The gift of the TARDIS.”

“But how does it still work for you here, and now?”

“No idea.”

“Timey wimey?”

“That’s the short answer, whenever nothing makes sense,” Rory grinned. 

They felt an earth shaking explosion not far away. 

“What the hell?” Dugan raised his shotgun.

“That was likely Jack, destroying this guy’s ship.  Can’t have that tech getting into the wrong hands, right?”  Rory shivered as the air began to grow electric, again.

“Go,” Dugan pulled Rory to his feet and pushed him down the path.  “Go back to the camp.  I’ll be right behind you, once I hand this guy off to whoever.”

Rory put one foot in front of the other and kept moving until he didn’t feel the paradox, anymore.  He wandered into the camp and found his tent, which he shared with Dugan.  It was empty.  He sat on his foot locker and buried his head in his hands, feeling himself going numb.

Dugan found him a half hour later.  He didn’t move when the sergeant entered his tent, and paid no heed when he turned around and left again to go find Peggy.

Peggy entered the tent a quarter hour later.  “Rory, are you alright?”

Rory did not reply.  She crossed the tent and lay a hand on his shoulder.  Giving it a squeeze, she said, “I suppose you know it was Jack.  From this time period.  He was thirty miles away when he saw the alien’s ship crash.  Howard will be upset that Jack destroyed it.”

Peggy sat down beside him and continued, “He laughed when he saw the alien.  Said they usually manage to kill him whenever they meet.  I think this made a nice change for him.  The restraints caught his attention, though.  I had to convince him that the Doctor wasn’t anywhere around.”

She waited for Rory to respond, but when he remained silent she continued, “I told him that someone else from the future gave us the restraints.  I don’t think he believed me.  He kept looking around, like something felt off.  He muttered something about feeling a paradox, but said that wasn’t possible.”

Rory still did not reply.  He had not moved.  Peggy reached out and put a hand on his back.  “That must have been very difficult for you, Rory.  I’m sorry.”

Steve came into the tent then, and Peggy withdrew her hand.  If anything, Rory’s heart sunk even lower.  Steve looked at Peggy, who shook her head.  “He loaded the alien into the back of his truck and drove away.  Said something about taking it back to Cardiff until he could find a way to send it home.”

“Him,” Rory said quietly.

“Pardon?”

“The alien.  Him, not it.”

“Right.  Sorry.  My first alien.”

“Just wait until you see an Ood.”  Rory straightened.  “Think we could continue that spar, Cap?”

Steve stared at Rory, for a moment.  He looked strangely blank, but if he thought sparring would help, then Steve would do it.  “Sure.  Let’s head back that way.”

Rory caught Peggy’s hand.  “Thanks, Meg,” he said, smiling sadly.

Dugan and the rest of the commandos followed Rory and Steve back to the clearing by the lake.  As they faced off, Rory gave Steve a long, steady look.  “If you’re my friend, you won’t hold back, right now.”

“Lieutenant,” Steve frowned.

“No.  This isn’t about rank, or nicknames, or practice, or anything other than you doing me a favor.  I’m not going to be able to hold back this time, and I don’t want you to, either.”

“You’ve been holding back?” Steve was surprised.  And a little annoyed.

It started out a friendly enough spar, but Rory was not the usual master of his psychic energy.  Since his arrival in the past, he had been very diligent in keeping his thoughts shielded and refraining from using any of his telepathic abilities.  But his black mood was causing psychic bleed, and as the only person making physical contact with him, Steve got a slug of energy that awakened his own latent anger.

***


	6. Psychic Bleed and Stargazing

Steve Rogers was not an angry man.  However, having grown up being bullied and disrespected and taken for granted, he had his share of unresolved anger.  All of it surfaced as he and Rory sparred, and soon the exercise became a fight and from there devolved into a brawl.  Both men stood toe to toe and neither held anything back. 

Rory was outmatched in strength, but not in skill or reflex.  He saw each of Steve’s punches almost before it was thrown.  Rory stepped into as many of Steve’s punches as he avoided, which kept Cap off balance, unable to understand Rory’s strategy.  And Rory certainly knew how to throw a punch.

The others watched, partly in awe, partly alarm as the two friends continued to fight as hard as either of them had ever fought, before.  Each time Rory knocked Steve down, the latter would spring back up, angry for having been bested.  Each time Steve knocked Rory down, Rory would lazily climb back to his feet, a grim smile on his face. 

“What the hell are you smiling at?” Steve growled, the third time it happened.

Rory spat and threw a haymaker that knocked Steve down.  Steve launched himself at Rory, tackling him to the ground, stunning him.  He wrapped his hands around Rory’s throat, choking him.  The others rushed over, trying to separate them and yelling for Steve to stop.

Rory’s respiratory bypass kicked in and he grabbed Steve’s wrists, trying to pry his hands away from his throat.

Steve was livid.  “You smile again, and I will break your _stupid face_.”

Rory blinked.  His hands went slack.  _Amy_.  He let them fall to his side and closed his eyes.  _Ubera mea._   _My beloveds._

“What?” Steve startled.  He looked down and realized he was throttling his friend.  He released Rory and allowed the others to pull him away.

Rory rolled to his side and gasped for air.  Dugan knelt by him, a hand resting on his shoulder.  “You all right?”

Rory closed his eyes and focused on getting his breathing under control.  As he calmed, he realized what had just happened.  He locked down his wayward thoughts.

Steve shook his head, clearing it.  “What just happened?”

“Psychic bleed.  My… frustration unlocked your anger.”  Rory sat up.  “I’m sorry.”

Steve’s eyes were wide.  “You can do that?”

Rory shook his head.  “Not normally, no.  But it’s been a crap day.”  He looked at Steve.  “Look, I didn’t know that _could_ happen.  But now that I do, I know how to prevent it.  I promise it won’t happen again.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because you’re my friend, and I’m not going to hurt you.”  It sounded like a pledge.  A promise.  A vow.  “I didn’t realize that my ambivalence would bleed through.”

“Ambivalence?”

“Anger, wanting to hit something.  Despair, wanting to be hit.  You mostly picked up on the anger.”

Steve realized that, now that he was clear of the anger, he felt energized.  It was the best fight he’d ever had.  And he felt cleansed of his old anger, somehow.  He looked at his friend, who did not look quite so relieved.  He reached down and took Rory by the hand and hauled him to his feet.  Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around his friend and embraced him.  “I’m sorry.”

Rory returned the hug before pulling away.  “I’m sorry about that.  Really.”

“I know.  But I believe you when you say you won’t let it happen again.”

“Thank you.”

The men made a fire as Rory and Steve washed the blood off of their hands and faces.  When they sat by the fire, Dugan handed Rory a bottle.

Rory stared.  “Ginger beer?”  He frowned.  “How did you…”

“Peggy told me it’s the only thing that’ll get you drunk.  Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone.”

“How many do you have?”

“Six.  That enough?”

“Do me a favor while I’m still sober, and pour out three of them.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to accidentally poison myself.”

“Seriously?”

Rory nodded.  “I shouldn’t have more than two, but after today I know I’ll reach for a third, if it’s there,” he trailed off.  “But that’s the limit of what I can consume safely.

“We’ll look out for ya, Gramps,” Dugan slapped Rory on the back and opened four bottles.  He handed Rory one and poured out the other three.

Steve looked at him and said hesitantly, “What was that, when…”

“I’m a touch telepath,” Rory said.  “I work hard to keep that to myself, though.  But I was… distracted.”

“Suffocation will do that to a guy,” Dugan quipped.

“But what made you think of Amy, then?” Steve asked.

Rory chuckled.  “You said ‘stupid face’.” 

Steve frowned.

“Let’s just say that Dugan’s knack for nicknames is bested only by Amy’s.”

There were plenty of laughs around the fire, but Rory did not join in.  He drained the bottle and stood and hurled it across the clearing with a shout of frustration.  Then he hung his head and sighed.

He walked across the clearing and picked up the bottle, which had landed on the soft grass without breaking.  When he was back by the fire, he reached for a second drink.  His friends fed him, and they managed to draw him into their easy conversation, though he did not make his usual effort to join in or laugh along.  Peggy showed up with her emergency stash of chocolate, which she shared with them all, though she did not allow them to touch the ones that she knew Rory favored.

Jacques went back to camp and returned with his guitar.  After he had butchered the third ballad he attempted, Rory reached out and took the instrument away from him.  He spent several minutes tuning it.  “Did you teach yourself?” he asked Jacques.

“Oui.”

“Not bad, then,” Rory smiled.  He began playing the first song that came to mind.  Without thought, he closed his eyes and sang.

_I hurt myself today..._ _To see if I still feel_

He kept singing, playing the song[1] as he had learned it, so many years ago, now.  He’d been thirteen when he first heard it.  Fifteen before he’d understood it.  He learned to play it when he was sixteen.  So many years…

When he finished the song, he opened his eyes to see everyone staring at him.  Meg was brushing away a tear. 

“Is that what music is like, in your time?” Steve frowned.

Rory chuckled.  “No, it’s not one you’d hear all that often.  But it was always one I’d play, if I was in a mood.”  He sighed.  “Sorry,” he muttered, handing the guitar back to Jacques.  “No more Nine Inch Nails, I promise.”

Jacques shook his head.  “No.  You have a talent, my friend.  Won’t you play another?  Perhaps… something we all know?”

Rory cleared his throat.  He thought a moment before plucking out another tune.  The others made noises of approval as he found the right key and tempo (and notes) for “As Time Goes By”.  By the middle of the song, he stopped singing, his voice not required as the others lifted theirs.

He surrendered the guitar in exchange for the bottle, which he finished off.  He felt properly drunk, now, but really no better.  He grabbed the third bottle and walked away from the fire.  He drank it quickly and then flopped down on his back, staring up at the stars.

“You all right?” Meg asked, joining him.  She lay down at a right angle to his right, her head near his.

“So you been up there, Gramps?” Dugan was next to him on his left.  “What’s it like?”

Rory sighed.  “So beautiful, sometimes it hurts to look at it,” he whispered.  Tears were streaming towards and into his ears, but he could not stop them.

“I’ve heard you describe your wife that way,” Dugan quipped.

Rory made a choking sound that was half-laugh, half-sob.  “No, I said she’s beautiful, but she’ll hurt you if you cross her.”

He gave a chuckle and added, “Scottish,” and he was surprised when Dugan and Peggy said the same thing at the same time he did.  He laughed.  “Don’t tell me I’ve become predictable.”

“Nah.  Nothing wrong with being sweet on your wife, no matter how mean she may be to ya.”

“It’s just her way,” Rory smiled.  He knew most people didn’t understand that Amy’s harshness was a thin veneer that hid her beautiful, loving heart.

“So tell us what’s going on with you,” Peggy said.

Rory watched the sky.  He spotted a familiar constellation, then from there located a star that belonged to a solar system he knew he had visited.  “I know how to wait,” he said quietly, feeling Steve join him, the crowns of their heads only a few inches apart.  “I know how to be patient, and wait.  What I don’t know how to do is to not see them when they’re nearby.”

“I hope you’re not _just_ waiting,” Peggy said quietly.

“I’m doing my best to live a good life.  A full life.  To help where I can.  And I think I’m actually pretty happy, most of the time.  I miss my family, but that’s normal, yeah?”

“Yeah, that’s normal,” Steve said.

“And I know I’ll see them again.  It’s just…”

“It’s okay to admit that seventy years is a long time, Rory,” Peggy said.

“But it’s not, Meg.  It’s really not.  I’ve waited seventy-six years almost twenty-five times, before.”

“Yeah, but it’s like a marathon.  That twenty-sixth one is the longest,” Dugan said quietly.

“And you said yourself, you had a purpose, those first twenty-five times,” Peggy added.  “You were guarding the Pandorica.  You were protecting Amy.  You were doing penance.”

“How’s this for a purpose,” Dugan said bracingly, “knocking Captain America on his ass.”

Rory and Steve both chuckled.

“I’m serious.  You knocked him down four or five times, Gramps.”

“Were you going to let me kill you?” Steve asked quietly.

“I don’t think so,” Rory answered honestly.  “I think I was hoping you’d knock some sense back into me.”

“What do you mean?”

Rory sighed.  “Two thousand years is a long time to wait.  And I wasn’t human.  I didn’t sleep.  I was awake and conscious the whole time.  It was…”  He cleared his throat.  “I wasn’t exactly…”

“No judgment, Rory,” Peggy said, reaching out and taking his hand.

“No, we’ll laugh at you, but we won’t judge you,” Dugan said.

“I didn’t actually stay sane, that whole time,” Rory said. 

The others didn’t respond, though Peggy did grip his hand more tightly.  He wondered if she was holding Steve’s hand, too.  He shook his head, to clear it.

“Don’t see how you could have,” Dugan said, his voice quiet, his normal bravado gone.

“It became this self-indulgent thing,” Rory continued.  “A way to pass the time.  Whole decades…  It was like a particular door I could go through, in my mind, and be in this place where none of it mattered, quite as much.”

“And you found yourself in front of that door today?” Peggy asked.

“My hand was on the doorknob, when you came into the tent,” he admitted.  “I figured fighting Steve might help me walk away from the door.”

“And did it?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” Rory chuckled.  “That’s why I was smiling.  Every time you knocked me down, I was a little further away from it.”

“Will you be all right?”

“I’m always all right,” Rory said, feeling his hearts ache as he was reminded of someone who always said that, particularly when he wasn’t.  “Just needed to come apart, a bit.  I’ll pull myself back together and be fine, in a bit.”

“Good,” she gave his hand another squeeze before releasing it.  His hand felt cold and empty, all of a sudden.

“So.  Your friend Jack,” Dugan said, grinning.  “Pretty sure he was flirting with Cap.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Steve said.  Rory could practically hear him blushing.

“I thought he was being rather forward with you, Timothy,” Peggy’s voice held a laugh.

“You’re the only one he hugged, though.”

“But I’ve known Jack for years,” she chuckled.  “He knows a hug is the most he can expect.”

“You and Melody are the only two straight women I’ve ever met who don’t get all giggly when Jack turns on the charm,” Rory said fondly.  “Check that.  Only two women, period.”

“What’s his game, anyway?” Steve asked, feeling self-conscious.

“He’s just a flirt,” Peggy said indulgently.

“He just takes it to the next level,” Rory smiled.  “That man will flirt with anything with a pulse.”

“Is the potato guy safe?” Dugan asked, genuinely curious.

Rory barked a laugh.  “Okay, almost anything with a pulse.  That’s bipedal.  And approaches something akin to aesthetically pleasing.”  He considered as Peggy giggled.  “Actually, bipedal might be optional.”

The others were laughing, now as Rory further qualified Jack’s tastes.  “Remember, he took to a damaged plastic Roman centurion, so he can’t be said to have the highest standards.”

It was the closest he’d come to admitting to his relationship with Jack.  He grew quiet then, remembering.  Peggy changed the subject, and they talked into the night, watching the constellations chase one another through the sky. 

The next morning, Rory, Steve and Dugan were awakened by the colonel kicking them awake.

“C’mon.  Zola finally cracked.”

***

 

[1] “Hurt”, written by Trent Reznor (Nine Inch Nails) and superbly covered by Johnny Cash in 2002.


	7. One Hell of a Fixed Point

Rory zip-lined into Red Skull’s office with Falsworth and Dugan.  Red Skull ran out, followed closely by Steve.  The commandos fought their way through the facility, with Rory stopping along the way to help several soldiers who had been injured.

He stood up from one who was too far gone to help when he felt a wave of nausea that almost buckled his knees.  Dugan caught him by the arm before he could fall.  “Gramps?”

“Oh, God,” Rory bent over, taking deep, staggered breaths.  He could practically feel the air thicken and hit him like an ocean wave.  He sat down, hard.

“What’s wrong?” Dugan asked, his eyes scanning for Hydra soldiers.

“Fixed point,” Rory gritted.  “Big one.”

They heard Morita over the radio.  “The colonel and Agent Carter got Cap onto the plane.  He’s going to try to divert it.”

“Shit!”  Rory sprang to his feet and ran for the hangar.  “No, no, no, no!  That’s not today!  It can’t be today!”

“Gramps?” Dugan caught up to him.

Rory sank to his knees.  He looked up at Dugan.  “I didn’t know.  I swear it.”

“What?” Dugan asked, a feeling of dread sweeping over him.

“I mean, I knew.  But I didn’t know when.  And I couldn’t have stopped it without fucking up a lot of other things.”

“What are you talking about?” Dugan shouted, hauling Rory up by the front of his jacket.

Rory looked lost.  Hopeless.  He shook his head.  He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Cap?” Dugan asked, his voice shaking.

Rory nodded.

“You knew?”

“Not when.  I didn’t know when.”

“And what do you mean, you couldn’t have stopped it without fucking up a lot of other things?”

“It’s a fixed point.  He’s meant to…”  Rory swallowed.  “But he’ll be found.  In 2011.  Alive.  And in 2012 he’ll help save the world from an alien invasion.”

Dugan blinked.  Then he slugged Rory.

Rory staggered backwards, falling onto the ground.  “I’m sorry.  And you can’t tell anyone about what I just said.”

“Why not?”

“Knowing the future is dangerous,” Rory said miserably.

Dugan blew out a breath, shaking his head.  He held out a hand to Rory and helped him to his feet.  “Not dead, yeah?”

“But everyone thinks he is.  And don’t even ask me, because I don’t know where he was found.  They never disclosed that.  Hell, they didn’t even disclose that he’d been found until after the battle.”

“We’ve got to tell Peggy, though.  Right?”

Rory looked incredibly sad.  “What’s worse, to let her think he’s gone so she can mourn him and move on, or to tell her that he’ll be back, but not until she’s ninety years old?  You tell me, mate, because I don’t know.  And I’m not really the one to make that call.”

Dugan looked at him steadily.  “Don’t tell her.  Let her move on.  Hell.  Maybe, in a few years, once the war is over…”

Rory shook his head.  “No, I think I called it years ago when I told her she’d hate me before the war ended.”  He looked around bleakly.  “I’ll go find her.”

Rory found Morita and the colonel in the hallway outside of the radio tower.

“We’ll have the band play something slow,” Steve’s voice said over the radio.  “I’d hate to step on your…”

“Steve?  Steve?” Peggy’s voice broke.  “Steve?”  The final plea was practically a whisper.

The colonel took one look at Rory’s face and seemed to understand everything he’d had to explain to Dugan.  He nodded sadly.  They waited for Peggy to pull herself together.  As she approached, Rory said in a low voice, “Don’t stop her.”

“What?” the colonel frowned.

Peggy caught sight of Rory and stopped.  “You.”  Her eyes widened.  “You knew!”  She hit him, hard.  And then again.

And she kept hitting him.  Rory did not stop her and she raged against him.  And as blow after blow fell, he collapsed beneath the weight of her ire.  Then she was on him, continuing to pummel him, and still he did not resist, did not try to protect himself.  Part of him acknowledged that he would rather allow her to kill him than live with her hating him.

It was Dugan who put a stop to it.  Peggy was still hitting him, but exhaustion had made her violence ineffectual.  “Peggy, stop,” he said, pulling her off of Rory.  “Look at your hands, Peg.  C’mon.  That’s enough.  It’s not his fault.”

“He knew!” she spat, kicking Rory, who was barely conscious.

“Not until the plane took off.  Peggy, I was with him when he realized.  It was too late.”

“But all this time!  He knew it would happen!” she wailed.  “He could have warned us.  He could have stopped it!”

“Yes, he knew it would happen, Peggy.  But more importantly, he knew it had to happen.”

Peggy pushed Dugan away from her.  “How can you say that?”

“Because I’ve fought by his side, Peg.  So have you.  Steve was one of his best friends.  Don’t you think he’d have saved him, if he could have?”

Peggy kicked Rory again, but then all of her anger abandoned her. 

“C’mon, Agent Carter,” Colonel Phillips, said.  “I’ve got a bottle of bourbon with our names on it.” 

Peggy turned and walked away.  The colonel turned to Morita.  “Go see to her hands.”  He turned to Dugan.  “What did he say?”

“As soon as the plane took off, he almost fell over.  He looked ill.  He said it was a big fixed point.  Then Jim came on the line and said you’d gotten Cap onto the plane.  That was when he realized.”

“He knew Rogers would die.”

Dugan blinked.  Took a deep breath.  “He knew Cap’s plane would go down, not to be found until the next century.”

The colonel stared at Dugan for a long moment.  “I see.  Anything else?”

“His usual nonsense,” Dugan said offhandedly.  “Alien invasion in the year 2012.  Going to go badly for the aliens, apparently.”

“Hmmph.”

“Sir?  Should we uh…  Well, should Agent Carter be told…”

“I don’t think that’s up to us, Sergeant.”

“Do you think this is his fault, Sir?”

Colonel Phillips considered.  “No, Son, I don’t.  Based on what you just told me, and his own admission that he doesn’t remember dates that would help, I think he’s probably in one of the most impossible positions a man can be in.”

“Yeah, but either way, it’s unlikely that we’ll ever see Cap, again,” Dugan said thoughtfully. 

“And that’s a damned shame.”  The colonel looked down at Rory.  “Get him cleaned up.” 

***

After the war, Rory stayed with the 107th to help finish clearing Hydra bases.  He took other assignments when Agent Carter joined the team, as she did in the capture of Werner Reinhardt and, a year later, the mission to Russia.

“You know, maybe it’s time to mend old fences,” Dugan said to Peggy before she boarded the plane back to New York with Fennhoff.

“I really don’t know what you mean,” she said, turning icy.

“Yeah, you do.  Peg, Jim told us about Cap’s last words.  That it was his choice, to put that plane in the water.  What good does it do to blame Gramps?”

She sighed.  “I don’t blame him, Timothy.  I just…  I just can’t understand how he could act like nothing was going to happen.”

“Well, how else could he have acted, if he knew it couldn’t be changed?”

Peggy shook her head. 

“Look.  All I’m saying is, you two were always good friends.  Maybe better than friends.”

“What?”

“Aw, c’mon, Peg.  Don’t tell me you never noticed how sweet he was on you.”

“Timothy, he is married.”

“Yeah, and we’ll all be in the ground a long, long time before he sees her again.  That’s a long time to be alone, Peg.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“You’re my friends.  And I don’t like it that you’re not friends, anymore.”

Peggy boarded the plane, looking thoughtful.

***

Peggy was in Los Angeles.  She had just had dinner with Agent Sousa and his lovely fiancé, as a goodbye before she headed back to New York.  As she left the restaurant, she heard a strange sound around the corner.

Curious, she peeked into the alleyway to see the air stirred up and hear a wheezing noise as a blue box slowly materialized.  A mad looking young man leaned out and looked at her.  

“Hello!  I’m the Doctor.”

Peggy just stared.

“You are Agent Carter, I presume?”

Peggy continued to stare.

“Don’t badger her, Sweetie,” a woman with a mass of curls pushed past him and stepped into the alley.  “I am River Song,” she smiled, holding out her hand.

Peggy took her hand.  “You are Melody Williams,” she corrected.

River smiled.  “Yes, I suppose to you, I am.”

Another woman pushed past the Doctor, eliciting an “Oi!”

“Hello, I’m Amy Pond.  Can I just say, it is _so_ amazing to meet you!”

“Why don’t any of you want to claim his name?” Peggy asked, frowning.  “He’s a good man.  I don’t understand.”

“He’s the best man we know,” the Doctor said gently.  “But names are tricky, aren’t they?  Yes, they’d be a way of staking a claim on him, or showing his claim on them, but that’s not how loving Rory works, really.”

“I thought you couldn’t travel to this time period.”

“We can, we just can’t come in contact with Rory.  Could cause a paradox.”

“Yes,” Peggy said, remembering how the air crackled when Jack almost spotted Rory.  She looked at them.  “Then why are you here?”

“Well, remember the letter your future self sent to you?  She also sent one to Jack, and there was a note for us, as well.”  He smiled at her.  “You… your future self, that is, told us to come get you, and show you how fixed points work.  So here we are.”

“I don’t get the impression you are one to be summoned at the whim of some random woman,” Peggy said, her face as skeptical as her tone.

“Random?” the Doctor chuckled.  “You, Peggy Carter, are likely the least random woman alive.”  He held out a hand.  “Care to go for a spin?”

Peggy looked at the TARDIS, and at these people who meant so much to her friend.  She was surprised to find she still considered Rory a friend, after being so angry with him, for so long.  She took the Doctor’s hand and found herself being hauled into the TARDIS.  She stopped inside the door as the others hurried to the console and the Doctor began his dance.

It was just as Rory had described it.  “It’s,” she said, catching her breath. 

The Doctor went still, waiting for his favorite moment.

“She’s as beautiful as he said.”  Peggy thought sure she heard some sort of purr, in addition to the sound of the engines. 

The Doctor beamed.  “Now, we can only go on one trip, and I’ll need to find a fixed point that we can see."

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some liberties with the timelines for TATM, as well as The First Avenger. Bucky's fall is earlier because I didn't want to deal with the complication of the Winter Soldier having knowledge of the timey wimey. Hopefully it all makes sense, and nothing important is sacrificed in the re-weaving.
> 
> Deepest condolences to the Sousa/Carter shippers out there. But c'mon - Violet is pretty awesome, so Sousa can have his HEA. 
> 
> Clearly, there are other plans for Agent Carter's HEA. :)
> 
> Enjoy!


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